


when it feels right

by complicationstoo



Series: STB Bingo Round One [3]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bakery, Baker Steve Rogers, Boss/Employee Relationship, Falling In Love, First Kiss, Getting Together, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Mutual Pining, Young Tony Stark, brief mentions of homophobia, but just one sentence, really brief though - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-07
Updated: 2020-12-07
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:28:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27926020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/complicationstoo/pseuds/complicationstoo
Summary: “You’re actually hiring me after that?” Tony asks, the disbelief clear in his watery brown eyes.Steve shrugs, “Gotta start somewhere, right? And if you’re terrible, it’s not like I can’t fire you.”Or, the one where Steve owns a bakery and Tony needs a job.
Relationships: Michelle Jones/Peter Parker, Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Series: STB Bingo Round One [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2037892
Comments: 51
Kudos: 465
Collections: STB Bingo: Round One





	when it feels right

**Author's Note:**

> so, uh, this was supposed to be short, but here we are
> 
> this in my fill for my Steve | Tony | Bucky Bingo square:  
> N4 - Family Business

Steve frowns down at the resume in his hands, glancing up at the person to whom it belongs with wariness. If it can even be called a resume, that is, with how sparse it is. “Have you never held a job before?”

The young man - Tony, according to the resume - gives him a sheepish smile and rubs the back of his neck. “Um, not technically, no. But well, everyone has to start somewhere, right? I guess I’m a bit of a late bloomer in that department, but the thing is I’ve applied to a ton of places, and nobody seems to want to give me a chance because everyone wants someone with experience, but I can’t get any experience unless someone gives me a job, and it’s just - do you see the problem with that? It’s all a very horrible cycle that managed to get me rejected from a goddamn grocery store, and not even one of the good ones.”

Steve stares at him, taking in the miserable expression on his otherwise pretty face. He actually looks a bit like he might cry, though Steve can’t tell if it’s out of frustration or sadness. Maybe both, given the way he manages to look both dejected and angry at the same time. 

“You have a degree from MIT,” Steve says, and Tony nods. “It’s in mechanical engineering.” Another nod. “And you’re applying to work at a bakery.”

“And grocery stores, bookstores, flower shops, restaurants, and even the vape store down the street despite the fact that smoke gives me headaches, yes,” Tony says, and the sadness is definitely winning over the frustration now. “I suppose I should just add this to my list of rejections, huh? I mean, you probably shouldn’t vent to potential employers about how much all employers suck.”

“Yeah, probably not,” Steve laughs, and Tony’s shoulders somehow fall even further. “But honestly? I’m pretty desperate to hire someone before Easter hits, so as long as you know how to make change I think we can work something out.”

“Seriously?” Tony asks, standing up straighter. The disbelief is clear in his watery brown eyes, and Steve feels a pang of sympathy for him. “You’re - you’re actually hiring me after that?”

Steve shrugs, “Gotta start somewhere, right? And if you’re terrible, it’s not like I can’t fire you.”

Steve feels bad the moment he says it, because Tony’s eyes widen and the moisture in them is even more pronounced that way. “I mean, it’s not like I’d fire you for a couple of mistakes,” he quickly amends. “More like if you managed to literally burn the place down or, I don’t know, were a complete dick to all the customers.”

“Oh,” Tony says, and his relief is palpable. “Yeah, yeah, that makes sense, yeah. I, uh, I promise I will not be a dick to customers or start fires.”

“Great,” Steve says brightly, handing Tony his resume back. “Come back on Monday at six thirty after we close, and I can start showing you the basics. Door will be locked, but just knock and I’ll let you in.”

Tony takes the resume back with a degree of trepidation, eyeing Steve cautiously like he doesn’t quite know if he should trust him. Which is odd, considering Steve is the one who just hired a stranger with no experience and the world’s worst interview.

“Just like that?” Tony asks. 

“Just like that.”

____________

Tony is perfectly punctual on Monday evening, and Steve decides to take it as a good sign. Natasha thought he was insane when he told her what happened, and while Steve maintained in front of her that it was a perfectly good idea, he can admit to himself that his doubts were growing over the weekend. 

He unlocks the door just long enough to let Tony inside, then locks it back up again. In the half hour between closing and now, he cleaned up the front area, wiping down the few tables and chairs and sweeping the floors. He figures he can show Tony the steps for closing on another night, perhaps after his first shift if it isn’t disastrous enough to get him fired before they even get that far. 

“So I figure you don’t have much experience with baking to help there, but you’re capable of washing dishes and working the front counter, right?” Steve asks, leading Tony behind the counter and into the back, where the kitchen is still in a messy state from this morning. He never has the time to clean up when he’s finished the baking for the day, and he doesn’t get the chance until after closing. 

Tony nods eagerly, “Yeah, yes, I can do that.” 

“I normally do the clean up myself, but according to Natasha, I will, and I quote, ‘burn myself right into the ground if I don’t stop working fifteen hours a day,’ so, here we are.”

Tony looks at him with raised eyebrows, “You’re here all day?”

“All day, seven days a week,” Steve confirms, slipping his hands into his pockets as he leans back against one of the countertops.

“You work a hundred and five hours a week?”

Steve shrugs, “We close early on Sundays, and, well, sometimes Natasha kicks me out during the day.”

“I don’t know who Natasha is, but she seems wiser than you.”

Steve laughs, surprised at the boldness, but enjoying it. “Yeah, she probably is, and she’ll like you immediately for saying it.”

“Why don’t you just -” Tony gestures vaguely through the air “- hire some more people?”

“I hired you, didn’t I?”

Tony smiles, “Yeah, I guess you did.”

Steve smiles back, then jumps them right into work. He shows Tony all of the equipment he uses on a standard day, all of the large mixers and their components that need to be washed by hand and the items that are fine just to go in the dishwasher. Tony nods along with everything he says, but Steve already fears for the day he’s alone with it and accidentally melts something that wasn’t safe for the dishwasher. 

“Counters get scrubbed down with this solution,” Steve says, holding up the bottle kept in a rack of cleaning supplies. He points to a small door on the other side of the kitchen that leads to a storage room. “If it’s ever empty, there’s always more in there. Make sure you grab the right one, though, because the wrong one could very literally kill someone.”

Tony’s eyes widen, and he jokes, “I take it that would be a fireable offense?”

“Killing customers? Yeah, that would be hard to overlook,” Steve agrees with a grin. “The other one has blue tape on the bottle, though, so as long as you can tell blue from green, you’re all set.”

“Green is good, blue is bad,” Tony nods. He repeats the phrase under his breath a few times like he’s trying to make it stick in his head. “Hey, those start with the same letter, so that’s easy enough to remember, huh?”

“I have complete faith that you won’t kill anyone with cleaning products.”

Tony smiles like it was a real compliment, and Steve, who already had a million questions about him, has even more crop up in his head. But he won’t be invasive and ask them all, so instead he takes him back up front and shows him the ropes up there. 

“I doubt you’ll ever be here alone without me, Natasha, or Peter, but just in case you are, I’m going to show you everything,” he says. “And if you ever are alone, by the way, try to avoid the temptation of eating too many things at once. You’re allowed to take what you want, of course, but Peter learned the hard way that a person can’t eat ten peanut butter cookies, two cupcakes, and a brownie in one sitting without vomiting.”

“Wait, I can take what I want?”

“Oh, yeah. Did I forget to mention that? I like to make sure everything is fresh, so we don’t sell things that were sitting out, but I also don’t like to waste food, so you can take whatever you want at the end of the day,” Steve says. He pulls out the trays from the display case, each with a few leftover items, and sets them on the counter. “Peter comes by on days he isn’t even working to get stuff, and Nat likes to take them to parties sometimes. They’re also discounted for the last half hour before close, but there’s always some left anyway. You can take something now, if you want. I don’t mind.”

“Yeah?” Tony asks, eyeing the trays hesitantly.

“I recommend trying the cheesecake brownie. It’s my personal favorite.” Steve tilts his head toward the tray on the end, but Tony still seems wary, so he adds, “You really can take one. I’m not gonna fire you for stealing or something.”

Tony smiles, “Maybe later, then. Don’t want to distract myself when you’re trying to tell me how to do stuff.”

“Good call,” Steve says, and he moves on to how to work the register. They go through the steps of ringing up each item, and Steve is pleasantly surprised to find out that Tony is a fast learner. He only has to say things once, and the training goes by quickly for it. 

He supposes he shouldn’t be too surprised, though, seeing as Tony did graduate from one of the best colleges in the country. It shouldn’t be surprising that he can figure out a cash register in a minute, but it does make Steve wonder more about how Tony ended up here instead of somewhere his degree would be of good use. He doesn’t ask, though, figuring that it’s probably a personal story and doesn’t really have any bearing on whether or not Tony can work this job. That’s really all that matters here anyway. 

“So, I know I just covered a lot of stuff, but if you have any questions, there’s always someone around to ask. Even if I’m in the back, don’t hesitate to ask,” Steve says when they’re finished with the basic training. He reaches for the stack of forms that Natasha was kind enough to print for him earlier and slides them over to Tony. “Just need your information, and you’re all set to get started as soon as next week.”

Tony fills them out, and they discuss scheduling and pay as the last steps before they can be done for the night. Steve walks him back to the front door and unlocks it again. 

“See you next Monday,” Steve says, holding the door open for him. 

“Next Monday,” Tony confirms stepping out onto the sidewalk. “Bright and early.”

Steve goes to shut and lock the door behind him again when Tony turns back around. 

“Thank you, by the way, for taking a chance on me,” Tony says softly, his smile shy and incredibly endearing. “I know you didn’t have to, but I - I appreciate it a lot.”

“Well, I hope it works out for both our sakes,” Steve says, giving him a smile in return, and Tony’s laugh follows him through the rest of the night.

____________

Tony’s first days go smoothly, all things considered. A few small mistakes here and there, like when he presses the wrong button on the register by mistake and the whole thing shuts down, but he never makes the same mistake twice. Steve doesn’t even have to tell him when it’s wrong most of the time, because he figures it out for himself the second it happens. He does wish, though, that Tony would stop looking so scared every time he makes one, like he’s just waiting to be berated for it. The first time he flinched when Steve came over to help him correct one is still stuck in Steve’s head.

He gets to know Tony very slowly throughout his first couple of months. He learns that he likes to invent things in his spare time after he comes into the bakery with a bandage wrapped around one of his hands from an accident with a blowtorch and that he hates to be standing still for too long. He doesn’t like bananas, but he can eat an entire loaf of banana bread in one sitting if no one intervenes to stop him. 

Tony also proves that he’s good with computers after he fixes up the bakery’s apparently terrible website. One morning he sees it on Steve’s work computer and eyes it with disdain, then the next it’s completely revamped and suddenly has a feature that allows people to place specialty cake orders online. It also solves the issue of Steve trying to decipher Tony’s illegible handwriting on the order forms. 

Tony bonds with Peter almost immediately, though, and it seems like it takes only days for them to know all of each other’s secrets. Steve swears he isn’t jealous of the instant connection they have, nor of the one Tony quickly develops with Natasha. She becomes like an older sister to him, and she starts calling him endearments in Russian the same day they meet. Steve was floored the first time he heard it, considering it took him almost a year of knowing her to get the same. 

It really doesn’t take long at all for Tony to fit right in like he was here all along. 

"Brianna," Tony says brightly as the door chimes up front. Steve glances up from where he's putting out more chocolate cake pops to see a woman in her late twenties or early thirties with sand colored hair walking in. He's seen her a few times before, but not enough to know her name. 

She grins at Tony as she strides up to the front counter, “Please tell me you’ve got some.”

“I made sure we would,” Tony says, and he turns around to grab a box from the counter behind him. Propping the lid open, he reveals some of the blueberry muffins that are usually gone by this time of day.

“Oh, you’re a life saver.”

Tony enters the muffins into the register and smiles, “It would be a shame if Savannah didn’t get her Friday treat.”

The woman - Brianna, apparently - laughs as she hands over a twenty dollar bill. “She’d just throw a tantrum until I caved and made them myself, and then she’d throw another one when they aren’t as good.” Brianna looks over at Steve and adds, “Three year olds are truly so much fun.”

“Hey, at least you’ve got the cutest three year old,” Tony says, putting the change in her hand and sliding the box over to her. 

“That’s true, but she’s less cute with snot dripping from her nose.”

Tony laughs, and Brianna drops all of the change into the tip jar before they exchange goodbyes and she’s out the door. 

Steve doesn’t realize he hasn’t moved from where he’s kneeling on the floor behind the display case until Tony looks down at him with a frown. “What are you doing?”

“How do you know her so well?” Steve asks, straightening up and closing the sliding door on the case. 

“Brianna? She comes in every Thursday to get something for her daughter to have tomorrow,” Tony shrugs. “We talk sometimes.”

“She gave you a ten dollar tip.”

Tony’s brow furrows, and he leans over the counter to look in the jar. “Did she? I told her to stop doing that.”

Steve looks at him closer than he has before, considering him. Between the first impression and now, he seems different. More comfortable and open, less inhibited by the things that must have brought him to Steve’s bakery in the first place. He looks better in general as well. Happier. 

Steve thinks it’s an awfully good look on him, but pushes the thought from his head the second it happens. Not a good idea to be thinking about that small dimple on his cheek that accompanies his smile. 

“Is it always blueberry muffins?” he asks. “I can make extras on Thursdays.”

Tony turns toward him, lips parted in what might be surprised. “Yeah, it is. She tries other things sometimes if we’re out, but, well, I’ve been setting them aside lately.” His eyes widen a touch and he asks, “That’s okay, right? That’s - I’m allowed to do that?”

Steve gives him a reassuring smile. “Yeah, Tony. That’s more than okay. Thank you, actually, for keeping regulars happy.”

Tony’s shoulders loosen in visible relief. “Oh, yeah, no problem. They’re fun to talk to. Well, fun except for George on Mondays, but I think I’m growing on him.”

“George on Mondays?”

“The old guy who wears that grey trench coat and always orders a cinnamon raisin scone right when we open on Mondays,” Tony explains. “You’re here all the time, I’m sure you’ve seen him. He’s super grumpy, but two weeks ago I got him to sort of smile at me and last week he told me his name, so that’s some progress.” 

“Guess I’m usually in the back when he comes in,” Steve says. His eyes seem to be stuck on Tony, and though he’s run out of reasons to stay at the counter with him, he doesn’t go back into the kitchen just yet. “Who else do you talk to?”

Tony grins, “Have you met Miranda?”

____________

“Hey, Steve?” Tony knocks on the doorframe to the back office, startling Steve where he sits behind the desk and making him hit his knee on the underside of it. He swears under his breath before looking up at Tony, who gives him a soft smile. “Sorry for interrupting. I just wanted to see if I could switch shifts with Peter next week. He said he’d take my Saturday afternoon shift if I took his Friday morning shift.”

“Oh, sure, yeah,” Steve says, rubbing his sore knee. “As long as Peter’s okay with it.”

“He is.”

Steve nods, wondering if he should ask why he needs the change or if that’s invasive, and there’s a long pause before Tony starts to turn away. Maybe that’s why he doesn’t know Tony as well as everyone else does, because he never lets himself ask the questions. He decides to risk it and manages to ask the question before Tony is completely out of ear shot. “Something happening Saturday?”

Tony whips back around, almost banging his head on the door with how fast he turns. “Huh?”

“I, uh, just wondering if there’s something happening on Saturday that you needed the day off for,” Steve says, feeling his cheeks flush. “You don’t have to tell me. I’m just - making conversation, I guess.”

Tony smiles, biting his lip to keep it small, though he’s clearly amused by Steve’s awkwardness. “Sort of. Meeting with my godfather to discuss some things, and apparently it has to be Saturday.”

The answer sparks a million more questions, but Steve doesn’t ask any of them. Instead, he says, “Oh, well, I hope it goes well. Or however you want it to go, I guess.”

Tony’s amusement grows, but he only nods. “Thanks. I’m done here for the night, but I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Right, yeah, okay. Thanks for your help today.”

“You don’t really have to say thanks every day, you know,” Tony comments. “The paycheck kind of does it for you.”

Steve frowns, “That seems like it would be rude.”

Tony gives him a peculiar look that Steve can’t quite figure out, then gives him another nod in goodbye before he’s out the door. Steve slumps back into his chair, rubbing at his temples and cursing his complete lack of finesse.

The thing is, he likes Tony an awful lot. The kind of like that started as curiosity, then tentative friendship, and is now turning into the wanting to seem him outside of work type of like. But apparently he’s incapable of having a conversation with him that isn’t work-related. 

Natasha walks into the office as Steve is contemplating just never talking again, and her look is just as amused as Tony’s was moments ago. 

“So I couldn’t help but overhear that fun conversation.”

Steve groans, scrubbing a hand down his face, “Don’t mention it.”

“Too bad, because I’m going to,” she says, coming around to sit on the edge of the desk and pushing Steve’s cup of cold coffee out of her way to do it. “Is there a reason you always act like you’re physically incapable of being normal around him?”

“I’m perfectly normal around him.”

“You’re perfectly professional,” Natasha corrects. “Peter and I are normal. We’re his friends.”

Steve snorts, “You and Peter are absolutely not normal.”

“Peter and I have each managed to have more than one personal conversation with him in the last two months. Have you?”

“We talked about movies two days ago.”

“No, he talked about movies and you listened. He’s always talking about something, but that doesn’t mean you’re having a conversation with him. He talks to the pastries sometimes, too.”

“Are you saying that I have the social skills of a danish?”

Natasha laughs, “It’s pretty accurate.”

“That’s insulting.”

“You said it, not me,” she shrugs. “Now stop being weird and just ask him questions about his life every once and awhile. It’s not crossing a line to chat with your employees, you know.”

Steve nods, biting his lip as he considers it. Natasha leaves the room without another comment, seemingly content with her bit of meddling in his life for the day. 

It’d be easier, he thinks, if he liked Tony less. But Tony is interesting and funny and smart, and he’s definitely not the kind of person that Steve knows how to talk to. He’s the kind of person that Steve would see in a bar on one of his rare nights out and spend the entire night working up the nerve to talk to before chickening out and going home alone instead. But he can’t really do that here, seeing as Tony isn’t someone he can just go home to avoid and never see again. He should make more of an effort, really, and he will, starting tomorrow. 

____________

Tomorrow doesn’t go as planned. Steve oversleeps, which he _never_ does, and has to rush to the bakery only to realize he left his keys at home. By the time he runs to his apartment and back, Tony is already standing in front of the locked door, looking absolutely exhausted.

“I see we’re both off to a rough start,” Steve remarks as he shoves his key into the lock. 

Tony frowns, “What do you mean?”

“Oh, uh, just that I’m running late and you’re -” Steve gestures at Tony’s face, meaning to encompass the dark circles under his eyes and bedhead, but Tony’s frown deepens and his brow furrows. 

“Are you saying that my face looks rough?” 

He sounds hurt, and Steve immediately backtracks, “No, no, you’re just - you look like maybe you didn’t sleep well, is all. I’m sorry, that wasn’t a great thing to say.”

To his surprise, Tony laughs, “Oh, yeah, I didn’t really. Didn’t think it was so obvious, and I agree that you should’ve kept that particular comment to yourself, but, hey, at least you insulted yourself at the same time.”

“Sorry,” Steve says again, cheeks reddening. He tucks his set of keys back into his pocket once the door is locked behind them once again and heads into the kitchen, flipping on lights along the way. 

With the extra staff member, he’s started to begrudgingly accept help for the early morning baking. When it’s with Natasha, she prepares the muffins while he does the rest. With Peter, he works on the cookies and brownies, and he’s surprisingly adept at both. Tony, however, is a different story. 

“Wanna try your hand at the chocolate chip cookies again?” Steve asks as they gather supplies from the backroom. 

“Are you sure? I messed ‘em pretty bad last time.”

‘Bad’ is a bit of an understatement, but Steve doesn’t say that. Instead, he says, “Yeah, well, you can only get better from there, then.”

Tony shrugs, “Alright, I guess. But when they suck and you have to remake them, just remember that it was your suggestion in the first place.”

Steve grins, setting down the new bag of flour, “I’ll keep it in mind.”

After the ingredients for today’s recipes have all been laid out, Steve slides Tony over a copy of the cookie recipe and lets him go for it while he sets out on making cranberry and dark chocolate scones. He’s been having a bit of trouble getting the texture just right, and he concentrates on them while mostly ignoring the other side of the kitchen. Occasionally a muttered ‘fuck’ or ‘oops’ breaks through his focus, but otherwise, the kitchen is quiet except for the everpresent top 40 hits playlist that plays on a loop whenever the bakery has people inside. 

It’s only as he’s sliding his first batch of scones into the oven that he remembers he was going to make an effort to get to know Tony better. 

“So, um, how was your night?” Steve asks while he starts on the next batch. 

Tony turns, surprise evident on his face and flour on his cheek. When he gets over the shock of being asked a question (and Steve grimaces internally over the fact that it’s surprising), he goes back to the tray of dough in front of him and replies, “It was good. I mean, I didn’t do much, but I had fun not doing anything, I guess. What about you?”

“Oh, I, uh, just practiced a new recipe.”

Tony looks over his shoulder with a raised eyebrow. “You went home from the bakery, where you had already been for fifteen hours, and baked some more?” Steve nods. “Do you have a personal life at all? When was the last time you got laid?”

Steve sputters, almost choking on nothing, “Excuse me?”

It’s strange that Steve is relieved when Tony just shrugs, because he’s apparently moved past the stage where he’s afraid of being fired at every turn. “You don’t have to answer, obviously, but I’m just wondering if you have any sort of life outside this place at all. Nat and Peter have told me you don’t, and I kind of thought they were exaggerating, but after a few months, I think they’re exactly right.”

Steve sighs, lifting his hand to run it through his hair before remembering it’s sticky with dough, “I have a life.”

“Yeah? What’s it like?”

“It’s,” Steve hesitates, because there really isn’t a way to describe it without it sounding incredibly boring. “It’s not the most social, admittedly, but I like it that way. I spend my days at work, and yeah, I go home and bake some more, but it’s relaxing.”

Tony hums as he walks over to one of the ovens to slide his tray in. He sets the timer for it, then comes over to Steve’s station and leans his elbows on the counter. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“Natasha said something about this place belonging to your mom once.”

Steve waits for the question, but it never comes. “That’s not a question. That’s just a statement. A true one, albeit, but still just a statement.”

“Is that why you spend all your time here?”

Steve can feel Tony’s eyes on him, and he focuses intently on stirring chocolate chips into his mixture. “I spend all my time here because it’s important to me, so in a way, sure. If it wasn’t hers and I didn’t practically grow up here, I doubt it would be as meaningful for me to do this. But it’s not like I feel like I’m letting her down or something if I don’t spend as much time here, if that’s what you’re getting at. And it’s not a control thing, either. Nat’s suggested both, but honestly, I just like doing this.”

He expects more questions, because Natasha has a tendency to push the subject. She seems to be under the impression that he’s using the bakery as some sort of avoidance measure, or that if he found someone to be with he wouldn’t be here as much. But the truth of it is he enjoys what he does, plain and simple. 

“Okay,” Tony says easily. “I get that.”

He walks back over to his side of the kitchen, pulling out another baking sheet to start a second batch, and Steve stares at his back. “You get that?”

“Yeah, sure. I’m kind of the same way when I’m working on things I like. Like, sure, it’s work, but it’s the good kind of work. People don’t tend to see the difference, because it’s like they all think that all work sucks, but there is one. And I mean, if you’re happy, who cares? Conventional happiness isn’t the only type of happiness.”

“That’s -” Steve pauses, flummoxed. “That’s exactly it.”

Tony turns his head to give him a grin. “Of course it is. I’m a genius.”

Steve laughs, turning back to his mixing bowl. “So I hear. Peter told me you’re the reason he did so well in physics last semester.”

“Peter’s a liar, because he was doing just fine before me.”

“Well, even so, you graduated from MIT. That speaks for itself.”

Tony’s quiet for a beat, then says, “You want to ask, don’t you?”

“Ask what?”

“What Natasha asked me the second she met me,” Tony says. “How I ended up here instead of, I don’t know, with some big name company doing something with my degree.”

Steve bites his lip. “It’s really none of my business.”

“Not really, but I can tell you anyway if you’re curious. It’s not like it’s some big secret or anything.”

“Only if you want to,” Steve says, and he keeps his gaze locked on his own hands, though he isn’t sure if it’s to make Tony feel more comfortable or himself. 

“Well, the short version is that I was supposed to inherit my father’s company when he retired, but then he suddenly died instead and it ended up with his business partner, which is my godfather, and he’s a bit of an asshole.”

Steve frowns down at the dough in his bowl. “The godfather you’re meeting with next week?”

“That’s one, yeah. He basically took the company and a ton of money from me, spread a whole bunch of rumors about me to get me blacklisted from just about everywhere I could’ve worked otherwise, and discredited me on everything I’d already worked on for him. So between the rumors and the lack of experience, my options were incredibly low.”

There’s an air of nonchalance as Tony talks, but his shoulders are held tight and there’s a slight tremor to his voice that lets Steve know it means more to him than he lets on.

“Honestly?” Tony continues. “It’s partially a power trip, and partially because I’m gay. My father was never a fan of that fact, either, which is probably why he never changed his will to have me listed as the owner of the company after he died in the first place.”

Steve turns around, leaning back against the counter and folding his arms over his chest as he processes the information dump. 

“So why the hell are you meeting up with this guy next week? Sounds to me like you should get as far away from him as possible.”

Tony huffs a laugh, “Yeah, somehow this is as far as possible. He’s persistent when he wants something, and distance wouldn’t exactly stop him. I’ll just have to say no to whatever it is a million times and hope he eventually takes the hint.”

Tony looks over at him, and something in Steve’s expression makes him sigh. “Look, it’s really less dramatic than it sounds. I mean, I was pissed off for a long while, but it’s alright now. I’m working with what I’ve got, which isn’t a whole lot, but I’m learning.”

“You told Nat all of this?”

Tony shrugs, “The gist of it, yeah. Then she called me something in Russian that I’m hoping wasn’t an insult, and that was that.”

Steve laughs, “Not an insult. She’s been calling you ‘kitten.’”

“Well that’s cuter than I was expecting,” Tony grins. “I almost feel like I should be insulted still, but I’m really not.”

“Nat’s pretty sparse with who gets her Russian endearments, so really you should treat it like a badge of honor.”

The timer goes off on Tony’s oven, and Steve follows him over to it to see the finished product. Tony dons a pair of oven minutes and pulls out the tray as Steve looks over his shoulder.

“Well,” Steve says, “they’re better than last time.”

“They certainly have a higher chance of being edible,” Tony agrees, looking down at the flat cookies. 

Steve breaks off the corner of one, burning his fingers and tongue a bit as he pops it into his mouth. They haven’t risen quite right, having spread across the sheet and leaking butter a bit, but the taste is nearly there.

“They are, in fact, edible.” Steve claps his shoulder, smiling wide. “Congratulations on using sugar this time.” 

Tony laughs, loud and bright, and Steve feels his day get better for it. 

____________

It’s easier after that day to get to know Tony. The conversation feels more natural, and Steve doesn’t have to think as much about where to start or what to ask. He can just say anything thought that’s in his head, and Tony runs with it. Now he knows Tony’s favorite movies and songs, his preferences on most foods, and his strangely strong opinion on the best milk alternative. 

They become actual friends, though not in the same way as Tony and Peter or Tony and Natasha. He talks to Peter about inventions, using words that are not even remotely a part of Steve’s vocabulary, and he complains to Natasha about his terrible dating life. (Steve thinks he has something to say about that last bit, but he keeps it to himself.)

“I'm just saying that these would be better if they had more chocolate,” Tony says after close one night as he sucks melted chocolate from his thumb.

“You want everything with more chocolate,” Steve laughs. He throws a kitchen towel at Tony, who lets it hit his chest and fall on the tiled floor. “There's already a full bag of chocolate chunks in there.”

“And?”

“And if I add any more, they're going to be all chocolate and no pumpkin muffin.”

Tony takes another bite and says through it, “I don’t see the problem.”

Steve rolls his eyes, breaking off a piece off of the muffin in Tony’s hand to pop it into his mouth. It’s the perfect ratio of chocolate to muffin, actually, and he knows they’ll sell well when the fall season hits in a few weeks. He doesn’t even need to practice them again to make adjustments to the recipe, which is a rare thing. 

“These are just fine the way they are. I’d say great, even.”

“But you know what would make them perfect?”

“Don’t say it.”

Tony grins, “More chocolate.”

Steve steals the last bite from him, and Tony squawks in protest. “You said they weren’t perfect. I’m just saving you from having to eat something you don’t like.”

Tony pouts at him, his lower lip sticking out in a way he should be too old for, but is actually ridiculously adorable. His legs are also swinging from where they dangle off the counter he’s sitting on to add to the effect. “I wanted that.”

“You can take the rest home if you want,” Steve says, jutting his chin towards the other eleven still in the muffin tin. “Well, maybe save one for Peter, but the other ten are all yours.”

“You think I can eat ten muffins?”

Steve raises an eyebrow. “I personally saw you eat five brownies in a row two days ago, so yeah, ten muffins over a couple of days seems like you.”

Tony laughs and reaches across Steve to grab another muffin. “I actually had a sixth when you weren’t looking.”

“Of course you did.”

“Don’t shame me,” Tony says, smiling as he peels the wrapper off. He takes a large bite, smearing chocolate over his lower lip, and makes a pleased sound that has Steve’s breath catching in his throat. Steve watches his tongue poke out to swipe away the chocolate, but quickly looks away when Tony catches him watching. 

“Did I get it all?” Tony asks, and when Steve looks back at him, there’s a hint of a smirk on his lips. 

Steve glances down to Tony’s lips, thinking for what might be the hundredth time about how full and soft they appear to be. His cheeks heat when he realizes he’s let his gaze linger a little too long on nothing. 

“Yeah, uh, you did. It’s gone,” Steve says, nodding quickly. 

Tony looks at him for a long moment, an indecipherable expression on his face. The smirk is still there, growing slightly, but there’s something in his eyes that wasn’t there before. 

Steve doesn’t get a chance to figure it out before the moment naturally passes. 

Tony sighs as he hops down for the counter, and Steve wonders if it’s done on purpose when he turns his back to Steve before dusting the traces of flour from the back of his pants. Probably not, he thinks, but he almost wishes it was. 

Steve only stares for a moment before remembering it’s not an appropriate thing to do. He tears his eyes away and grabs a white cardboard box for Tony to take the muffins home in, handing it over to him.

“Well, I should head home to get some work in before bed. And you,” Tony looks at him pointedly over his shoulder as he packs away the muffins. “You should go home and stop working. Watch that show I was telling you about or watch something else and google the show I was telling you about, because I will be quizzing you on it tomorrow.”

Steve laughs, “Yeah, okay. I’ll see how far I get.”

“Ooh, if you make it to episode five, text me. I want your immediate thoughts.”

 _Text me_ , Steve’s mind echoes. That’s new for them. Other than the group chat with the two of them plus Nat and Peter that Steve almost never participates in, they have yet to send a single message that wasn’t about work schedules. 

“I’ll be sure to text you if I get there,” Steve agrees, schooling his grin into a more neutral expression. 

“And don’t be surprised if you’re not that into it during the first episode. It takes a couple for the story to really get going.”

“I’ll give it a few before I make a judgment, I promise.”

Tony closes the lid on the box, tucks it under one arm, then pats down his pockets. Steve can hear him murmuring to himself as he double checks that he has everything he needs in them. When he’s done, he nods once before turning back to Steve. 

“Alright, boss, I will see you on Thursday.”

Steve’s nose scrunches. “Ugh, don’t call me that.”

Tony laughs, coming in close and smacking a kiss on Steve’s cheek to leave him stunned as he walks towards the front door. He doesn’t see Tony’s face as he leaves, but he bets there’s a self-satisfied smile on it, like there is every time he supersedes Steve’s expectations. 

____________

**Steve** : _What the hell??? You could’ve warned me that I wouldn’t be able to stop watching after episode five. I have to be up in five hours._

 **Tony** : _oops yeah that’s a cliffhanger you don’t wanna leave on_

 **Tony** : _but you like the show?_

 **Steve** : _I’m part way through episode six, so what do you think?_

 **Tony** : _...episode six has a cliffhanger too i’m sorry_

 **Steve** : _Oh no_

____________

**Tony** : _are you on season two yet?_

 **Steve** : _Starting it tonight, I think. Just cleaning up my kitchen still._

 **Tony** : _let me know when you start the first episode. i’ll watch with you._

 **Steve** : _Starting now._

____________

**Steve** : _What sounds better: banana chocolate muffins or cranberry orange muffins?_

 **Tony** : _do you even need to ask? banana chocolate, obviously_

 **Steve** : _No, but I figured I would since you’ll be taste testing them tomorrow._

 **Tony** : _oh my god yes. i’m so excited. you’re the best._

 **Steve** : _You’re the only one willing to tell me to my face that something sucks. Peter doesn’t like being mean and Nat doesn’t even like sweet things._

 **Tony** : _well someone has to keep your ego in check. can’t go around looking like that AND being perfect at everything, can you?_

 **Steve** : _So who’s keeping yours in check? You shouldn’t be allowed to go around like that and be perfect either._

 **Tony** : _guess that’s your job now ;)_

____________

**Tony** : _Image Attachment_

 **Tony** : _i saw this dog on the subway and he reminded me of you_

 **Steve** : _He’s adorable, but why does he remind you of me?_

 **Tony** : _blonde and cute_

____________

The next week is filled with more flirting than Steve knows what to do with, even though he starts it some of the time. It begins with the texts, but it bleeds over into work quickly enough, until he doesn’t even question it when Tony asks him to show him how to knead the bread dough for the third time in as many days. He just walks over to where Tony’s working and purposely flexes a little harder than he needs to while Tony overtly stares at his biceps. 

Natasha notices it, but she doesn’t say a word. Instead, she shakes her head with a small smile and whispers to Peter about it. They seem to be finding entertainment in watching Steve make himself look foolish every time he gets flustered at something Tony does. 

Sunday morning, though, changes things. 

Tony comes in a few minutes late, looking a bit worse for wear as he forces a smile. He doesn’t even say hello before he gets right to work on the mousse cups Steve has been teaching him, so Steve works in relative silence on his own batches of goods. 

He gets so wrapped up in the apple turnovers that he jumps when Tony suddenly says, “So, uh, I had that meeting with my godfather yesterday.”

Steve turns to look at him, but only sees his back. “How did that go?”

“Not great.”

Steve hesitates, inching his way across the room just in case the slight shakiness of Tony’s voice turns into something more. “Is it something you want to talk about?”

Tony shrugs, “Not much to say. He talked a lot, asked me for things he has no right to ask for while repeatedly reminding me that I don’t have anything anymore, and he was five drinks in before noon. All in all it was almost like a lunch with my actual father.”

“That’s - I’m sorry, Tony.”

“I don’t hate it here, you know,” Tony says, and Steve isn’t following the topic change, but he listens intently anyway. “I thought I would, no offense. I mean, I was grateful just to have a job at all, but I thought I’d be miserably sucking it up until something better came. Again, no offense, even though I know it sounds terrible.

“But even when I started to like it here, I still thought of it as just something temporary. Not you or Peter or Nat, but the job itself. I still kind of thought that I just had to wait it out and eventually the company would be mine like it was supposed to be. It doesn’t seem like it ever will be, though, and I - I don’t really know what to do with that.”

Steve comes closer, standing next to Tony at the counter. They both look down at the mixing bowl in front of them, rather than at each other. 

“You don’t really need the company, though, do you?” Steve asks. 

“What do you mean?”

“Just that from what I’ve heard, it was never really the company that you loved, but the work you’d be doing there. You don’t need it to keep doing the work.” 

Tony nods a little, lip between his teeth, but Steve continues when he doesn’t speak, “If I’d lost this place after my mom died, I would have started over somewhere else. The place means something, sure, but it doesn’t mean as much as what I’m actually doing. I don’t feel my mom’s memory in this building, I feel it when I’m making the recipes she wrote herself by hand, or when I’m reminding myself not to overmix something and hear her voice in my head. It might not be quite the same for you, but it doesn’t seem to me like you really need your father’s company to be who you wanted to be.”

Tony looks up at him with watery eyes, and Steve is struck by just how much gold there is in the brown, brought out by lights above them. He sniffles once, and it’s clear this isn’t the first time he’s cried over it in the past day, but Steve hopes it will be the last. 

“Do you have a secret degree in psychology I should know about?” Tony says, teasing lightly. “Because that was pretty much exactly what I needed to hear right now.”

“No,” Steve smiles. “No secret degrees to speak of, but maybe too many times comforting people who come in here for cupcakes to drown their sadness in.”

Tony laughs, “Yeah, that might do it.”

He wipes at his eyes with his sleeve, leaving only the redness as the sole sign he was ever upset in the first place. Clapping his hands together, he says, “Okay, now that that’s done, please tell me what I did wrong to make this mousse look like this.”

“Did you remember to separate the eggs?”

“Oh, shit.”

____________

Tony starts talking to him about everything after that, and the flirting grows rampant enough that even Peter starts making fun of him for it. 

“You could just, like, ask him out, you know,” Peter says during one afternoon. He just replaced Tony at the counter and walked into the otherwise empty bakery to find them standing huddled together and laughing at something that definitely wasn’t that funny. “That’s a thing normal people do when they like someone.”

Steve hums, crossing over his chest as he leans back against the counter, “And have you asked out MJ yet?”

Peter turns as pink as the Starbucks drink in his hand and mutters, “Shut up. That’s different.”

“Is it?”

“Yeah, because she hasn’t spent every minute of the last month flirting with me so obviously that a blind dog would see it.”

“Oh, Peter,” Steve laughs. “You’ve just called yourself more oblivious than a blind dog, and you don’t even realize it.”

Peter makes a face at him and says, “Oh, whatever. I’m taking my time because she’s my best friend, and it could get weird. What’s your excuse?”

“He’s my employee, and it could get weird,” Steve says flatly.

“Huh, yeah, that’s true. That sucks.”

Steve sighs, and his phone goes off in his pocket. He fishes it out and grins as he reads the text from Tony. _ok i’m eating that apple pumpkin thing on the subway and i just made a sound that i’m pretty sure has the guy next to me concerned i’m watching porn or something so don’t change a thing cause they’re perfect._

“Oh, God,” Peter says, reading the message over his shoulder. He has a finger on the screen and is scrolling back on their older texts before Steve can move the phone away. “You text him all the time, Steve. Just date him already.”

“One more word, and I’m firing you.”

Peter laughs, “You would never.”

Steve types out a response to Tony’s text, keeping his phone out of Peter’s view, then slips it back into his pocket. “Tell you what, Pete. You ask MJ out like you’ve been talking about since high school graduation, and I’ll ask Tony out.”

“You know what? I’m going to do it.”

Steve nods, “Yeah, so I’ve heard before.”

“No, I am,” Peter insists. Then he hesitates, “I’m just - I just need a few days. Or maybe a month. You know what, let’s make it after Valentine’s Day. I don’t want to make it weird by doing it so close to it, and then there’s the whole issue of how much we’re supposed to do for it, you know? So three months. I will ask her out in three months.”

Steve stifles a laugh into his hand. “Okay, yeah. You let me know when you do that.”

“Oh, I will,” Peter says, and he misses his straw with his mouth while trying to maintain eye contact with Steve.

____________

“Oh my God,” Tony practically screams. “Steve, look at these!”

Steve abandons his half-finished buttercream frosting and joins Tony in front of the oven, where he’s holding a tray of chocolate chip cookies. 

“Wow, those actually look perfect.”

Tony sets them on the counter and squats down to look at them from the side at eye level. “They actually rose. They aren’t flat, Steve. They’re real, honest to God cookies.”

Steve claps a hand on Tony’s shoulder and grins at him. “They certainly look like it. I told you we’d get you there eventually.”

“And it only took eight months.”

Steve laughs, “Well, it’s longer than I thought, but I’m proud of you anyway.”

Tony straightens back up, a strange look on his face, but Steve doesn’t get the chance to question it before arms are circling his neck and Tony’s chest hits his with enough force to knock a surprised breath out of him. He freezes at first, then hugs Tony back just as tightly. 

“Thank you,” Tony whispers in his ear. “For everything, really.”

Steve’s throat constricts, and he swallows hard before saying, “No thanks required.”

Tony pulls back after another moment and places a soft kiss on Steve’s cheek, his eyes bright with happiness, and Steve thinks about that first day they met again, when Tony looked so incredibly sad and defeated. He’s a long way from that place, and Steve’s just glad he got to be any part of that transformation at all.

Beaming down at his successful cookies again, Tony says, “I’m sending pictures of these to everyone I know. Nat’s not gonna believe this.”

It’s a problem, Steve realizes, when he discovers that he hates the idea of Tony sharing this moment with anyone else but him. 

____________

“So did you hear the news?” Tony asks him two days later, sidling up behind him in the kitchen a little after close. 

Steve looks over his shoulder at him, watching as he props his head up on his hand against the counter. “What news?”

“Peter and MJ are dating now.”

“What? No, that’s - I just talked to him the other day, and he said that he was waiting. Three months. Valentine’s Day,” Steve stammers out. He didn’t actually think Peter would do anything about his challenge, which is exactly why he said it in the first place. 

Tony frowns in confusion, “Well, I don’t know anything about that, but I do know that they have a date on Saturday, which, by the way, I will be covering his shift for. I think that might put me here all day, but, hey, young love or whatever.”

“You say young love like you’re a million years older than him,” Steve laughs. 

“He’s nineteen, and I’m twenty two. Teenager versus technically an adult, so yes, young love. And compared to you, it’s, like, toddler love or something. Wait, I don’t like the way that sounds. I’m taking that back, but just know that I’m calling you old.”

“Old? Excuse me? I’m twenty six.”

“Yeah, but you own a business and have a gym membership that you actually use and you probably shop at those fancy grocery stores that only sell organic shit. Your twenty six is everyone else’s thirty five.”

Steve dips his finger into the leftover royal icing he’s cleaning up and smears it onto Tony’s nose, coating it in sticky blue. Tony gapes at him for a moment before bursting into laughter. 

“Is this how you’re proving you’re not old? Really, Steve?”

Steve puts more on his cheek, honestly uncaring about the old comment and just wanting to keep him laughing like that for a little longer. He doesn’t even try to move away when Tony retaliates with a slash of blue across his forehead. 

“For the record, this is the lamest food fight I’ve ever been part of,” Tony says, adding to his original streak with another one right below it. Somehow it turns into a drawing on his forehead, and Steve watches him concentrate on it with a fond smile that he couldn’t get rid of if he tried.

“Been part of many, huh?”

Tony shrugs, continuing his drawing over Steve’s temple, “Not really. Witnessed one back in boarding school, though.”

“You went to boarding school?”

“Of course I did. My father wouldn’t have allowed me to be educated with commoners.” Tony rolls his eyes, a small smile on his face like it’s his own inside joke. “Jokes on him, though, because I don’t know how long it wouldn’t taken me to realize I was gay if it wasn’t for that all boys school.”

Steve laughs, “The perfect revenge, then.”

“It really was,” Tony says with a wistful sigh. “If only he knew just how many things I learned in those dorms.”

Steve’s face heats at the thought of that, and Tony can probably feel it under his fingertip as he puts more icing on his cheek. He pushes the idea out of his head and asks, “What are you drawing on me?”

“Oh, nothing. I’m just trying to put as much icing on your face as possible before you realize. Think the food coloring is gonna stain, by the way?”

Steve grabs Tony’s wrist to push his hand away while Tony laughs gleefully, and Steve only lasts a second before breaking and joining in with him. “You’re the absolute worst.”

“You started it,” Tony says. 

“You called me old.”

“You are old,” Tony grins. “You once got really excited over a sale on oven mitts, and you have a regularly scheduled time for doing your laundry. Plus, you texted me goodnight at eleven yesterday. Eleven, Steve.”

“Sleep is important.”

Tony gives him a look that tells him he’s only proving the point. “Thank you for the advice. It’s also important to listen to your elders, I hear, so I’ll keep it in mind.”

Steve shakes his head, pretending to be annoyed when he sighs, “This generation is just so disrespectful.”

Tony giggles, and it’s then that Steve realizes that he never let go of his wrist. He looks down at his fingers around it in surprise, and Tony is watching him when he looks back up.

“Did Peter tell you how it happened?” Steve asks, wondering how Peter worked up the nerve to go for it when he was terrified of the prospect just a few days ago. 

“Yeah, he said they were just hanging out yesterday like normal, and it just felt right. So he asked her out, and she said yes.”

“It felt right,” Steve repeats, mulling over the words. 

“That’s what he said, yeah,” Tony says, and he glances down at where Steve’s hand has yet to let go. “Seems like some pretty good advice, doesn’t it?”

“Tony,” Steve whispers, and Tony slowly drags his gaze back up to Steve’s eyes. 

“Steve,” he whispers back.

“I’m not the only one it feels right for, am I?”

“No, you’re not the only one,” Tony smiles. “But are you going to do anything about it?”

Steve’s eyes flicker down to Tony’s lips, and he leans in before he can second guess himself. His other hand finds Tony’s waist, pulling him in closer as he eliminates the space between them, and Tony makes a soft sound as their lips meet. His hand cups Steve’s cheek, seemingly uncaring of the mess on his skin that’s cracking as it dries. 

It isn’t like any other first kiss Steve has had before. There’s no hesitation in the way Tony kisses him back, no caution in the grip of his hand on Steve’s hip. They’ve waited too long for that. Tony tastes like sugar, icing dissolving against the first tentative brush of his tongue. His lips part for him easily, and Steve chases the sweetness of it until there’s nothing but Tony left. 

They don’t move apart when the kiss comes to an end, sharing oxygen in the small space between them. 

After a moment, Tony sounds dazed as he says, “I was thinking more of a date, but that definitely works, too.”

Steve laughs, “Tony, will you go on a date with me?”

“After a kiss like that?” Tony grins. “Absolutely.”

____________

_Epilogue_

_Two Years Later_

“You’re going to make me late,” Steve murmurs against Tony’s lips, but he makes no move to get out of bed. He grips Tony’s hip a little tighter, rubbing circles into the bare skin exposed by his rucked up t-shirt. 

“If you’re late, I’m late.”

“Which means it’s twice as bad.”

“Or twice as fun.”

Steve smiles, “No, twice as bad. And if we don’t open on time, George isn’t going to talk to you anymore.”

Tony pulls back with a whine, “Ugh, no, I just got him to show me pictures of his grandkids. We’re working up to knowing their names.” He slings his legs over the side of the bed, stretching his arms above his head in the darkness of their bedroom. “I’m hoping he brings them with him some time.”

“Maybe by next year,” Steve grins, because George’s reluctant friendship is his favorite part about Mondays now. He has Tony to thank for that, amongst about a million other things. 

Tony throws a pair of pants at him that land on his chest. “Get up. We can’t be late.”

Steve laughs as he grabs the pants and gets out of bed. He runs through his brief morning routine with Tony by his side, moving around the bathroom together with practiced ease from a hundred other mornings just like this. 

In the kitchen, he makes the coffee while Tony grabs the cereal and pours two bowls. Almond milk gets added to Tony’s, regular milk for his. Steve reaches his hand out behind himself for the vanilla coffee creamer, and it’s there a second later. 

“I feel like we’re in a cartoon when we do this, you know,” Tony says, taking the creamer back to put it in the fridge after Steve has added a ridiculous amount to Tony’s mug and just a splash to his own. “Oh, wait, no, it’s like that one episode of _I Love Lucy_. You know the one where Lucy and Ethel say they can predict their mornings down to the second? That’s us now.”

Steve hands him his coffee mug in exchange for his bowl of cereal, and he leans back against the kitchen counter to eat. “Is that a bad thing?”

“Nope,” Tony says, smiling into the rim of his mug. “It’s the best thing.”


End file.
